


Shiver and Glide

by smoulderandbraids



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Hockey, Holding Hands, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Pond Hockey, Shinny, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 21:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoulderandbraids/pseuds/smoulderandbraids
Summary: David and Alexis watch Patrick and Ted play shinny. David has a lot of feelings.





	Shiver and Glide

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

According to David Rose, there are three acceptable activities for a Sunday morning.

1) Eating breakfast foods. Possibly at a mimosa brunch, possibly in bed with his fiance.

2) Having sex. Preferably still in bed, with his fiance.

3) Sleeping. Definitely in bed, ideally with his fiance-turned-body-pillow. Especially if it’s winter and freezing and David is sure he will never be warm enough again.

This particular Sunday morning, David is doing none of these things. Instead he is standing, outside, in the freezing cold and blazing sunlight, being snowed on, watching his beautiful fiance play some godforsaken sport. He’d take the baseball over this any day.

Alexis elbows him sharply, nearly spilling his sad to-go cup of hot chocolate and jolting him out of his reverie.

“Could you try looking a little less gloomy? It’s not like anyone forced you to come, like that time I had to watch Prince Harry play cricket for like, six hours in Bali.”

This is true, no one forced David to come to a frozen pond in the middle of January. But in his defense, Patrick had asked him last night in bed, wearing an old, soft, wide-necked T-shirt of David’s that’s entirely too big for him, demonstrated by how it kept threatening to slip off one of his shoulders alluringly. David had been focused on kissing a hickey into the shockingly pale and delicious skin of Patrick’s neck and not listening at all to what he was saying. He’d mmm’d approvingly at what seemed like an appropriate pause in Patrick’s conversation and apparently he’d agreed to come to Sunday morning shinny like any supportive and loving significant other might.

Alexis cheers, and David guesses Ted has done something worthy of adoration, as all his teammates, including Patrick, are hugging him and fist bumping and that was definitely an ass-slap from somebody, which is a lot.

“Does that mean it’s over?” David asks, hoping against hope that the answer will be yes and it will finally be time for brunch and an exercise-warm and affectionate Patrick smiling at him across the table.

“I don’t think so? Ted says there aren’t really rules because it’s just a pick-up game, so they just kind of play and don’t keep track of the score and just decide when they’re done.”

David makes a face. He thinks that must drive Patrick’s competitive side crazy, wonders if he secretly keeps track for himself. It might be hard though, with everyone just dressed in random hoodies and jackets and no uniforms to speak of. This is nothing like the baseball.

The thing is, Patrick doesn’t look all competitive and bothered by the lack of organization. He looks happy, all pink cheeked from the cold and continuous skating, his hair curling softly out from under the edges of his toque. He’s quick, calling for the puck here and shooting there and passing to someone else whizzing by at a speed that makes David a little dizzy. David can see there is some kind of structure to the players’ movements, a flow that’s improvised but seems familiar to them. He doesn’t bother watching the puck and just watches Patrick instead, graceful on skates in a way David never would’ve imagined, having seen his dancing. He manages to be where the puck is going to be, rather than following it around, and watching him anticipate where it’s going next helps David actually follow the attempts to score better. The sounds of the skate blades on the ice is soothing, nearly, and his hot chocolate is sweet and still warm and David thinks maybe this whole shinny thing isn’t the worst.

“I think they’re done?” Alexis says, pointing to where players are starting to break off in twos and threes, moving to sit down and unlace their skates on the benches someone’s dragged out to the pond. “Let’s go see.”

Ted’s on one of the benches, getting his skates off, and Alexis abandons David to go sit next to him.

Patrick’s still on the ice, but he skates over to David when he sees him, stopping precisely at the edge of the ice. He’s all smiley and just about David’s height with his skates on.

“Hey,” he says, looping his arms around David’s neck, steady as anything on his skates as he gives David a quick, family friendly kiss, just to say hello. It’s sweet, especially since they woke up together maybe three hours ago and David really hasn’t gone far enough that Patrick should miss him. The angle is different with Patrick at his level and his hands are at a different place on David’s shoulders. David shivers a little and Patrick draws back to look at him.

“Are you cold? Let me get these off and we can go eat. I’m so hungry.”

“Yeah,” David says, and lets Patrick pull him along by the hand so they skate-walk to one of the benches at the very edge of the ice, similar to the one Ted and Alexis are now making out on at the other end of the pond. David would tell her to stop being gross, but he really can’t talk since Patrick has yet to let go of his hand and David has no plans to make him.

They sit together and David thought this was a really stupid place to put a bench, but he guesses it makes sense now for getting on and off the ice without having to walk through the snow in skates. Patrick pulls off his thick gloves and unlaces his skates with an ease that could only come from practice and David watches the broad stretch of his shoulders as he leans forward, how deft his fingers are with the laces.

“Did you have fun?” David asks, because he thinks Patrick did but he wants to hear it directly. Plus he needs something to do besides thinking about Patrick’s back and how good he looks.

“It was great,” Patrick says, pulling off one skate and starting on the other. You know how I get if I can’t burn off a little energy and last year I didn’t have my skates here, so it’s really nice. Kind of peaceful too.” He pulls off his other skate and wipes down the blades with a towel from his duffel, before putting on the skate guards and stowing them away in the bag, along with his gloves. They’re not real hockey gloves, not for shinny, but they’re not his everyday gloves either, the buttery soft ones David bought him last Christmas that David currently has stowed in his own coat pocket. He passes them to Patrick now, tries not to torture himself by watching Patrick put them on, followed by the peacoat tucked carefully away in his duffel. He doesn’t button it, leaving it open instead over his thick hoodie and the thermal David knows he has on underneath.

“I don’t remember skating ever feeling peaceful,” David says. “I don’t think I’ve done it out in nature though.”

Patrick’s eyes light up and it’s all David can do not to kiss him, but then they’ll be the gross couple making out at 10 A.M. on a park bench and Alexis and Ted have already accepted that particular role with gusto.

“It’s different,” Patrick says, standing and catching David’s hand again as they start walking to the car. “Way nicer than being in a rink. We should try it sometime. It’s probably more fun when you’re not dating an Olympic figure skating medallist.”

“Ekaterina was very intense.” David says. He doesn’t know how they ever managed to hook up at all, her schedule being what it was.

“Right,” Patrick says, trying to hide his smile in his upturned coat collar and failing utterly.

They’ve reached the car and David can’t help pressing Patrick up against his door and kissing him a little less chastely, until he can hardly feel the bite of the wind around them. Patrick holds him close, his hands coming to wrap around David’s waist. He kisses David back easy and unhurried, like he’d gladly spend the rest of his Sunday doing nothing else, nowhere else. David kisses him until he feels like he’s glowing, warmth radiating from the pit of his stomach to fill his whole body, centering on where Patrick is stroking the small of his back. David shifts, kisses Patrick’ temple and tries to hold himself together as more than the liquid rush of affection he feels for Patrick.

“Is that going to hold you over till after brunch?” Patrick says, still smiling and playful, like he hasn’t tilted and rebalanced David’s whole world with that smile.

“Probably not,” David says, honestly, sliding his hands over Patrick’s shoulders. “But I can make an attempt.”

“Thank you,” Patrick says, fake serious.

David never thought in a million years that he’d like getting teased so much.

“I’ll do a lot for waffles.” David says, as they get into the car.

“Like get on the ice with me?” Patrick asks, adjusting his rearview mirror and looking over at David, waiting for an answer.

“I’ll try it.” David says, and doesn't add that he’d be willing to try anything to make Patrick smile like that.


End file.
